


Your Other Family

by SylverLining



Category: Titan AE (2000), Treasure Planet (2002)
Genre: Crossover, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, M/M, Titan AE: Crossover, Treasure Planet: Crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-11
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-29 01:46:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/999410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylverLining/pseuds/SylverLining
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim's father had to come home eventually, but Joseph Korso only shows up when he wants something. Life's no fun when your son hates your guts, and your ex-wife's secrets will change things forever. Silver does not approve. Preed does; it's all so amusing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What The Cat Dragged In

The burnt sienna expanse filled the viewscreen, every inch of the convex glass looking out on Montressor's arid surface. Korso had been staring at it since the entire reddish planet was the size of a quarter and he could cover it up with his thumb, pretend it didn't exist, and he wasn't getting closer every minute. He folded his arms and tucked his chin down against his chest, hunched and peering at the enlarging continent like it was a drowsy cobra, sedated but still likely to strike.

He hadn't slept in days, and he still couldn't believe he wasn't dreaming.

"Cosmic thoughts, Captain?"

Korso jumped - he hadn't heard the footsteps behind him, but maybe there hadn't been any to hear. Preed liked to slink around the ship like a snake in the grass, and if he didn't want you to hear him coming, you wouldn't. And now the too-long arms and legs sloped and swayed around the stationary deck chairs, and languidly poured themselves into the one opposite Korso. Crooked, snaggly teeth showed under a curled lip, wry eyes at half-mast, while the scruffy human tried to get his heart rate back under control.

"Don't -  _do_  that, for the millionth fucking time!"

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't sneak up on me like that - just  _WALK_ , like a normal... normal Akrennian being!" Korso snarled, folding his arms tighter across his chest and cramming himself deeper into his chair. "God, I think I liked it better when you were bumping into everything."

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind. A thousand apologies. Or, rather - a million."

"Go back to sleep, Preed."

"I've had enough sleep to last me an entire lifetime, and trying to get more while staring at the walls isn't nearly as exciting as it sounds."

A moment of quiet passed, while Korso's jaw worked silently, and Preed watched out of the corner of one beady eye.

"We're coming in fast and smooth," Korso muttered around clenched teeth that were used to holding something between them. He hadn't tasted nicotine in over a week, and he didn't have so much as a toothpick to keep his nervous teeth busy. "Should be down in ten. Yes, that's ten Earth minutes, intervals of 60 seconds," he cast a sharp glance at Preed - who spread his long-fingered hands, all innocence and wide eyes.

"I wasn't going to say a word." He stretched, long arms almost snaking up to the ceiling. "My, but it  _will_  be nice to get out for bit. Stretch, breathe."

"You better be joking." Korso snorted.

"Hmm?"

"You're staying on the ship." When there was no answer, he looked up. "This isn't news to you, Preed, don't play dumb."

"Who's playing? Captain, I've been cooped up on this ship for a week now. I'm going absolutely stark-raving  _mad_  with cabin fever-"

"And you can just go crazy for a couple more days. Keep resting that head, and stay out of my hair."

"It's rested. And it still hurts like the most spectacular  _BITCH_ , which is not at all likely to change, no matter where I am."

Preed gingerly rubbed at the metal plate in his head, exploring the edges like unfamiliar territory. Having something added was almost as bad as having something taken away; get a tooth pulled and you couldn't stop tonguing the area where it had been. And he couldn't stop touching the rough places where metal met bone, his skin itched where it was just beginning to heal over, and he only learned to stop picking at it when his fingers came away bloody.

Korso's eyes made the familiar flick up and down they'd learned ever since that plate had found itself patching up Preed's skull a week or so before. He couldn't stop glancing at it, but couldn't bring himself to look at it too long either. It was like staring straight at the sun for too long - his head started to hurt, his hands started to shake, and he had to look away.

Preed, of course, saw all of this, and kept gamely trying to figure out how to turn it to his advantage. "I might as well enjoy the fresh air and sunshine, and whatever charms Montressor has to offer."

" _NO_. I told you before we left - you can come along in the ship for backup, but you are  _not_  coming on-world with me."

"Oh, Captain, really now! I promise to be on my best behavior-"

"Yeah, that's quite the promise." Korso snorted. "No, Preed. This is personal shit, and I need to deal with it myself."

"But -"

 _"Stay. Here."_ Korso stood up, towering over the seated Akrennian, and glared down dark and unflinching. "That's an order."

Their eyes locked for a moment, an unblinking game of chicken - then Preed slowly nodded, and flipped his hand up in a weary human salute.

"Aye-aye, Captain." He turned the motion into an opportunity to pick at the stained, dented plate again.

Korso sighed, and his frown lost some of its hard edges. "And stop that."

"Hmmph!" Preed wrinkled his snout, sniffed. "You try having a foreign object newly embedded in your skull, see how long you can leave it alone."

"Just quit messing with it. I'm not rushing your ass back to the vet if it gets infected or something."

Preed heaved a world-weary sigh, and forced his hand down away from his metal-patched injury. "Aye-aye, again."

"Good. Bring us in slow; I'm getting off the second we touch down. If I'm not back in a few hours, then you can send the search party." Something between a smirk and a dry smile flashed across his drawn face, and disappeared. "I'll see you tonight."

Korso gave a parting nod to Preed's lackluster wave, and stalked off the deck.

# # #

Nothing but pure muscle memory kept him moving forward, stepping up the familiar stairs from the cliffside dock. Ordering one foot in front of the other; his brain was a drill sergeant and his limbs quaking, raw recruits pissing their pants and crying for Mommy. Up the stairs, along the driveway he still knew every twist of, gravel crunching under his boots, teeth grinding to match. He stared up at the place as he walked - the building was bigger than he remembered. Different color too - come to think of it, the place looked nothing like the inn from his memory. Maybe it had been renovated - or maybe he'd been gone far longer than he'd even realized. He shrugged deeper into his coat, eying the dark corners he passed like snipers lay in wait inside them, catching him in their crosshairs.

He stopped on the welcome mat and took a deep breath. Forced himself to raise his hand and knock on the polished wooden door - and jammed his hands back into his pockets, rooting his feet to the ground and ordering himself  _not to run away like a goddamn pussy._  For several breaths, though, there was no answer. Korso growled low, bared his teeth in frustration. This was a stupid, stupid, God-awful idea, he might as well just turn around right now and go back to -

The door opened.

"Hi, welcome to the New Benboooww-oh... Oh." Sarah Hawkins' smile faded as her brown eyes opened wide, and her mouth dropped open. She gasped, staring at the man on her doorstep, eyes so wide the whites showed all around. One hand slowly went to her chest, as she fought to get her breath back.  _"My God,"_  she breathed, she breathed, when she could speak again.  _"Joseph..."_

"Hello, Sarah," He cleared his raw throat, tried to keep any trace of a crack or tremor out of his voice. Keep it calm, level, cool. "I... I'm here to-"

"Mom?" A young man's voice came from inside, and they both stiffened. Korso tensed - for some reason he hadn't imagined it would all happen so fast, he wasn't ready, he'd forgotten everything he wnated to say. "Hey, we got company? Did you tell 'em we're-"

Sarah glanced back into the inn, then back at Korso, looking torn and on the edge of panic. She took a deep breath, but still couldn't make herself talk.

"Mom?" The young man's voice sounded more urgent, a sliver of concern. "What is it? Who's at the-"

The door opened wider, and out stepped a young man whose unruly hair would only have brushed Korso's chin. But his eyes were old and quick, and they took in everything in an instant. And for just a moment his face blanched white and his face twisted in horror - and then it set into hard, narrow-eyed fury. His eyes went hard and sharp, and they pierced right through Korso like a skewer  _(God, he has his mother's eyes)_ -

"Hi, Dad."

Jim Hawkins pulled back his fist - and slammed it into the bridge of Korso's nose.


	2. I Don't See The Resemblance

"You  _bastard!_ "

Korso staggered back with fists flying in his face, jabbing at his ribs; his hands flew up in a defensive block, taking the worst of it with his forearms though he could barely see through the nauseating pain surging through his skull -

"How dare you - show your sorry face here, do you know what you did to her? Do you know what you did to ME!" Korso gritted his teeth and used every bit of his fraying self-control not to snap -  _don't punch back, for the love of fuck, don't hit him back -  
_  
Everything was happening all at once. Jim was going after him for blood, Sarah was screaming at both of them, her voice mingling with her son's, almost indistinguishable in their high-pitched fury.  _"JAMES PLEIADES HAWKINS-"_

"JIMBO! Belay that!" a new voice boomed, cutting through the chaos, Jim was dragged off of him-

And then suddenly someone was seizing Korso from behind, wiry-strong arms yanking him backwards and almost off his feet.

"Here for backup, Captain," Preed purred in one of his ears, and in the other was a high-pitched hum - a disruptor pistol powering up. Preed leaned around Korso's shoulder, and pointed it at the hulking figure who'd just emerged from the inn.

"Oh, I wouldn't." A rough voice growled - and Korso found himself staring down the barrel of what looked like a goddamn canon - attached to the beefy man's shoulder. A robotic arm ending in a thick cylinder, deadly business end pointing directly at Korso's head. The other arm, a natural one, held Jim back, giant hand on his chest pushing against his furious struggles - but also protectively. Defending him from the strangers, and his own stupid hot head.

Preed let out an unpleasant chuckle, foul breath hot against Korso's earlobe. "If you think you're fast enough, by all means-"

"Just don't know when ta quit, do ye, ya gangly sod?" The huge, half-mechanized man shook his head, and a ring on the cannon's turret spun, and locked into place with a nasty  _click_. "Ya made a big mistake, comin' in here guns blazin', hasslin' these good people-"

"Excuse me, but just who the fuck are you?" Korso snapped. "Talking to  _me_ about coming here-"

"I'm the man with the arm." A sharp smile spread across the cyborg's rugged face, gold teeth glinting. "And yer the daft fools gonna be full'a holes in a second-"

"Ohhh, goody!" Preed crowed, and cocked his pistol in reply. "And here I was, thinking this little jaunt wasn't going to be any fun-"

_THWEEEEEEEEEET!_

All four of them jumped at the harsh whistle that pierced their ears like a siren's wail. Sarah Hawkins took her two fingers out of her mouth, and in an instant she was between the warring factions, one hand pushing down the mecha arm-cannon, the other holding Korso at arm's length. "Put those away!" she shouted, staring down Preed's gun barrel without a flinch. "This is  _not_ happening on my front porch!"

Korso almost cracked a smile, through the pain and adrenaline, he couldn't help it. Her whistle could still split his head - and she stood between two charged guns like it was nothing. If this huge bozo's arm was mechanized steel, so were Sarah's balls.

She glared from Korso to Preed and back again, daring either of them to say a word. "The Benbow is neutral ground. Any fighting or drawn weapons, and I  _WILL_ evict you from the premises, and contact the authorities. That includes you, Mr. Silver." she finished in a much calmer tone of voice, though her clenched-jaw glare still matched her son's.

A few long, tense breaths... and the cyborg lowered his deadly limb with a low humming as it powered down. But the glinting golden metallic eye stayed fixed on Preed and his gun. "Aye, Marm." he growled. "See, I made a good faith gesture here - now if yer guests'd be kind enough ta do the same?"

"Put the gun down, Preed." Korso hissed out of the corner of his mouth.

Sarah held out her hand when Preed lowered it. "Thank you," she said flatly. "Now, I'll need to confiscate this, and hold all your weapons for the duration of your - your stay." She got over the stammer quick, face set as if it had never happened. "Planet regulations - and Benbow rules. Or," Her eyes went hard. "You can pick up and get off my property right now."

"Give it up." Korso nodded, when Preed hesitated. "That's an order."

Preed glowered - but handed over the weapon to Sarah, hilt-first. As he sullenly obeyed, he cast a narrow glance at the cannon, which had now somehow morphed into nothing more threatening than a mechanical arm and hand. "And what about you, my well- _'armed'_ friend?"

A rakish smile spread across the rugged, nonhuman face. "Sorry, lad. Easier when it's not attached t'yer person, eh?"

"Now," Sarah said through clenched teeth. "Let's all get inside, and talk this out like civilized people."

"Yeah, 'cause we're all so happy to see him!" Jim snarled, still straining against the enormous hand on his chest. "And let him right back into-"

"More  _curious_ , really, than happy!" Sarah fixed him a steely gaze - that almost immediately softened. For just a moment she and her son shared an entire conversation with their eyes, communicating volumes in the space of a breath. Korso recognized that right off - he used to speak with her that way. But he didn't know what they were saying now; he couldn't read her eyes anymore.

Jim finally broke away. Made a sharp noise somewhere between a scoff and a spit at Korso's feet - shrugged off the cyborg's hand, and stalked inside.

Korso shot Preed a deadly glare, then looked back at Sarah. "Give us a minute," he said, keeping one eye on the half-machine man, who hadn't turned his hard gaze away from him once. "I'll be right in."

Sarah looked like she was going to say something to him - then stopped and turned away, going back inside without a word.

Silver kept both narrowed eyes on them, waiting until she was safely inside before moving to follow. "Hope ye know just how utterly blinkin' daft it is, showin' yer skin here after the damage ye've done." He spoke low and dangerous, and somehow the soft words were a thousand times more threatening than any of his salty roars. "Best be damn grateful fer that woman's fergiveness and authority - ye'd be in a world o'Hell without 'er. Otherwise... I might just listen to her boy."

Korso kept quiet - and for once in his life, so did Preed. The cyborg slowly opened the door and ducked inside, keeping his golden eye fixed on them until the very last.

When the door closed behind him, Korso whirled around on Preed, hands balled into fists.  _"YOU!"_ he roared. "I told you to stay on the ship, Preed! I gave you a goddamn order-"

"Yes, because you could have  _definitely_  taken a humongous  _arm-cannon_ all alone and defenseless-"

"I meant to come here unarmed, you idiot! I'm not here to pick a fight with these people-"

"Yes, and you've done a  _fan-TASTIC_  job of  _not_ getting into fights lately-"

"Not the point! I am your captain-"

"And I'm not here as your first mate!" Preed glared, voice raising for the first time. "I'm here to make sure you don't do something unbelievably stupid - like getting into  _fisticuffs_  with a human child! And _losing,_ apparently." He added, as Korso's hand went to his damaged nose. "Better not fiddle with it," he smirked."

Korso rolled his eyes, but didn't have the energy to retort; he was suddenly so drained.

"Really now, Captain." Preed continued. "I'm the one with the plate in my head, you'd  _think_ you'd be the one with the common sense. And on some level, you must have known this would happen, and even wanted it. Why else would you have taken me along? Now, I won't make you  _admit_ you're glad to see me, I'm not that cruel... but I AM here now. At your disposal."

"Just go back to the ship, Preed."

"Mmmm, I don't think that's wise," Preed shook his head. "Someone needs to keep you out of trouble."

"I...you..." Korso sputtered - then, at last, closed his eyes. "Fine.  _FINE._ You can stay until everything's under control, the more the fuckin' merrier, this is already going so well."

"Wonderful!" Preed clapped his hands. "Then let's not keep our fine hosts waiting. Ah, out of curiosity - who are they? Did I hear that fine young man correctly, when he called you..."

Korso sighed, rubbed at his pounding head. "Yes. That woman, Sarah, is my... was my wife. And James... is my son."

" _Reeea-_ lly?" Preed gasped, clapping one hand to his chest. "That bright-eyed moppet carries  _your DNA?_ Truly, Captain, I don't see the slightest resemblance, he's far too adorable-"

"Shut up, Preed." Korso interrupted, but with no edge to back it up, he was too exhausted for this. "And for Chrissake, keep your mouth shut in front of them. Don't talk unless you're spoken to - no, no, you know what, just don't talk, period."

"Is that another order?"

"Would it matter? Don't even know why I bother talking to you, you're so good at taking orders-"

"Of course it matters." Preed said in that dangerously honest tone of voice, the one where Korso could never tell if he was joking or dead serious. "Orders are subject to one's own discretion. But I never refuse an earnest request between friends." He lowered his voice, folding his long fingers. "I promise, Captain, to be on my best behavior."

"That's so reassuring." Korso snorted, and turned toward the Benbow's double doors.

# # #

Every eye in the room glared at Korso as he entered, and he gave it right back to them. Preed kept a benign smile, relaxed and completely at loose-limbed ease. Korso glared at the boy across the room; Jim leaned against the opposite wall, arms folded, as far away as he could get while staying in the same room. He gingerly touched the bridge of his nose, peering at his fingers for any trace of blood. There wasn't, but he still sneered down his damaged nose - which, to quote the spindly smiler behind him, hurt like a  _spectacular bitch -_ at the young man. Jim had stopped struggling to get at him, but the towering cyborg still stood beside him, huge natural hand resting on his shoulder - partly in reassurance, partly to keep him from trying to kick Korso's ass six ways to Sunday.

"Jeezus fuck," Korso muttered. "You almost broke my nose, you -"

"Good!" Jim spat. "'Bout time you hurt a little."

"Goddamn, who taught you how to punch like that?"

"That'd be me, boyo." the cyborg hulk let go of Jim and lumbered forward with a rocking gait, stepping side to side as much as forward on his mechanized peg-leg. The golden metal eye whirred in his head, cogs turning, and a bright light like a LASER-pointer pinpoint swept across Korso's face, as if it were scanning his brain. "And there's loads more where that came from, if ye've got any funny ideas about-"

"Mr. Silver - Jim," Sarah interrupted, rubbing her forehead and sighing. The gesture was familiar to Korso - he'd just done it himself outside. He had to wonder who'd picked it up from whom. "I know what you're - I appreciate it." She nodded several times automatically, biting her lip. 'But I'd like to hear what he has to say."

"You're really gonna listen to anything that comes out of his mouth, are you _insane?"_ Jim demanded, stomping across the room and sticking his finger in Korso's face. "He comes back here after all these years, expecting-"

"You think I'd be here if I didn't have to be?" Korso snapped. "You think I want to come barging back into your lives-"

"I don't care why you're here-"

"Yes you do, if you know what's good for you-"

"Oh, and  _you_  know so well what's good for me-"

"You found Treasure Planet!" Korso shouted. "The thing was a legend, it wasn't even real - and you found it! Nobody thought it could be done, but you did it-"

"And now you want some of it!" Jim threw back his head and laughed, an awful sound with no mirth whatsoever, that didn't belong coming out of him. "Well, sorry you came all this way for nothing, but it's all gone-"

"No, goddamn it! I need your help!" Korso snorted through his nostrils like an angry bull. "I need you to help me find something, something that could be-"

"So you  _do_ want something." Jim shook his head. "God, you really are pathetic. You disappear without a word, completely walk out of our lives - then you show up begging for a  _favor?_ You only care about what we can do for you. You haven't changed at all."

"James, I..." Korso hesitated, forced his voice down to a normal level. "I admit, I've been a God-awful father. I haven't done right by you or your mother, but right now this isn't about me, or you, and if you'd just-"

Jim was shaking his head all the way through this, the movement getting faster and more frenetic with every word, until his hair flew and he burst out through clenched teeth. "Here's something that should sound real familiar to you, Dad-" he glared daggers at Korso, hands balled into fists and got right up in his face, leaning up so close he almost came up against Korso's aching nose.

" _GOODBYE!"_

And with that last word shouted in Korso's face, he turned away and stomped up the stairs, not once looking back.

A moment of stunned and awkward silence stretched through the inn, broken only by Jim's angry footsteps overhead. Then Preed looked from the stairs and back to Korso.

"Ah!" he said cheerfully. "Now I see the resemblance."

"Mr. Silver," Sarah said wearily. "Would you talk to him, please?"

"Aye, Marm." Silver nodded. "But I'll let 'im cool down a spell first - nothin' good comes from burnin' up a head a'steam like that."

"I think sooner would be better," Sarah's eyes went up to the ceiling, and Silver's followed, golden metal cybernetics whirring and focusing on something beyond the dark ceiling rafters. "And... I'd like to speak to my ex-husband alone."

"Ah, I get ye." He frowned, moving toward the stairs. "I'll be _right here,_ " he said to her - but glared deliberately at Korso and Preed as he spoke.

And when he drew level with Korso, he stopped, and leaned in very close. "The Benbow might be neutral ground," he growled, low and deadly. "But i got no quibbles 'bout takin' this outside. You do one thing ta hurt that boy again - or that good woman there..." The metal arm clicked and whirred, gears and tumblers rotating like the cocking chamber of a gun.

Korso gave a mocking grimace. "Thanks for the tip - but this is my family. And again, just  _who the fuck_ are you?"

The cyborg gave a crooked, squinting smile. "Like I said before - I'm the man with the arm." Then he turned, and lumbered up the stairs after Jim.

Korso scowled after him - then whirled around on Preed again. "You heard the lady - quit munching popcorn and get your ass back to the ship."

"Joseph - wait." Sarah took a deep breath and made herself smile. "You're not staying in your ship, when we have a house full of vacancies."

"You can't be serious," Korso stared. "You're gonna let me stay in your  _house?_ I dunno if you heard our son just now, but I haven't given you many reasons to love me." He eyed her with suspicion; there had to be a catch.

"We're an inn. It's what we're here for." She shrugged - but then her eyes went hard, and for the first time she showed them where Jim's got their fire. "But believe me - I'm not doing this out of the goodness of my heart. The catch is-"  _Damn, after all these years she was still right in his head - "_ -that you're going to give us answers. All these years, Joseph, and there's only been one thing we wanted to know, and that's _why._  You're going to tell me... And most of all, you're going to tell  _him._ "

Her voice softened, and she let her folded arms drop to her sides. "He's an amazing boy, Joseph - and you have no idea of the young man he's grown up to be. And he deserves to know why he didn't have a father. He deserves that, and so much more."

Korso kept quiet. His hurting nose had a very good idea who that boy had grown up to be - but he bit his tongue... and slowly nodded. "Okay," he grated out, voice gravelly and raw.

"Good." Sarah turned abruptly away from him, switching her attention to Preed. "You can go ahead and get settled anywhere upstairs, the rooms are all open. Or if you're hungry, I'm sure B.E.N. can whip you up something in the kitchen."

"Ah, thank you most kindly!" Preed swept into an exaggerated bow, long hands waving in the air. "My, what a perfectly charming hostess!" he cast an amused sidelong glance at Korso, before sloping off toward the kitchen doors. "I'll see you in a bit, Captain."

When they were alone, Sarah turned back to Korso, and raised her arms, taking in the entire place, presenting the rebuilt inn like a gameshow's prize, a Brand New Car.

"Well, Joseph." She let her arms drop limp to her sides. "Welcome home."


	3. Phantom Limbs

Silver's leg hurt.

Not the flesh-and-blood one, and not the metal one he leaned harder on in his uneven, rocking gait - the one that wasn't there. Phantom limb pain, it was all psychosomatic, all in his head, every bit of it. But then, he had cogs and gears in his head too, and no amount of positive thinking or keeping busy could stop the dull ache in the back of his mind. Even after all these years it lingered, especially when the metal moving parts began to rust and squeal together without oil lubrication. Then it came back in full force - and along with it, the memories of exactly what had cost him that arm and leg. Why his pain was phantom, but no less real.

The only thing that really made it stop was that boy.

A long time ago, on those short, chaotic days on the RLS Legacy, he noticed something strange. After Jim left a room, when he was alone again, the pain would flood back in a rush so intense he'd have to shut his eyes and hang onto a wall or sit down until the dizzying wave passed, while Morph zipped in circles around his head, warbling concern.

He'd cursed it at first, blustered at the weakness he didn't understand - until he recognized the pattern. A low-grade, ever-present ache couldn't overwhelm his senses like that. To come back in a rush, the pain had to fade away first.

And Jim did that, he made it go. Without knowing, without trying, just by living and looking at him as something other than a half-machine criminal, without revulsion or fear.

But today, the kid was full of revulsion, and a good bit of fear disguised as adolescent bravado. And that's what made the pain come back in full force, until he had to pick up his metal leg and set it on the next step to keep climbing the stairs.

There was a muffled scraping noise, a scrabbling against metal - then a faint far-off  _CLANG_.

Silver paused, shaking his head with a rueful, quiet laugh, and continued up the stairs, sure to make some noise as he went. Kid didn't need to be snuck up on today.

"'Ey there, Jimbo," he called through the open window. It was far too small for him to squeeze through, so he just stuck his head and broad shoulders out, resting his elbows on the windowsill. "Think ye told me about this spot, once or twice."

He didn't get an answer. Jim didn't turn around or look at him either; instead, he crouched down and picked up another fist-sized piece of loose metal shingle from the roof. Tossed it up and down in one hand, gauging the weight - then pulled back his arm like a baseball pitcher and winged it into the air as hard as he could. Silver's eyes followed the scrap's parabola across the sky, cybernetic lens tracing the trajectory and instantly knowing where it would -

_CLANG._

The scrap missile collided with the Valkyrie's hull and bounced off. It didn't leave a dent - but Silver's golden eye picked up the hairline fractures in the reinforced window, and he had to smile.

"Nice shot, that," he nodded approvingly, large hand rubbing at his chin. Jim still didn't answer or look up - instead he picked up another shingle, turning sideways into another pitcher's windup. "But I think I got ye beat here."

He pointed his arm - whirring and clanking as it transformed into the trusty arm-cannon - at the ship and sighted along its length, lined up the lettering "VALKYRIE" in the crosshairs. He shot Jim a sidelong glance... and Jim let his arm drop, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a reluctant smile.

"That might be a little too much..." Jim muttered, letting his head hang low and rubbing the back of his neck. He was smiling now, but he still stared at his feet, eyes hiding behind the floppy bangs he still liked to let hang loose. "Better just egg it like normal people."

"Oh, aye." Silver nodded, arm cannon rearranging itself back into the shape of an arm. "Glad ta see yer not about ta go for any big booms - destroyin' private property ain't always the answer. Can be, o'course, but not just now."

"Yeah," Jim scoffed. "That ship never made my mom cry."

Silver's smile faded. He let out a sigh and leaned heavily on the windowsill, folded his flesh and metal fingers. "Now, I know yer a right miss right now - all kinds'a bilge runnin' around in yer head. Pissed, hurtin', scared-"

"I'm not scared!" Jim flared, letting the scrap he held fly. It went far wide of anything, and flew harmlessly over the edge of the docking cliff. "I just - I just want him to fucking  _DIE!_ All these years I thought maybe he was dead and that's why he never called, well - I wish he  _had_  died!"

Silver rubbed his eyes and let Jim blow off some steam. The kid stomped back and forth across the roof, booting depris over the edge and sputtering cathartic, foul abuse punctuated by stomps and kicks. Maybe he'd made a mistake coming up here, maybe he was just making it worse - but he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he went back downstairs.

"All right, yer not scared, yer damn mad as all hell and quite blinkin' rightly too. I'll tell ya straight up, so am I!"

Jim stopped his tirade in mid-swear and just looked at him, all of the tension and rage fading from his face. He stopped pacing and held very still, wavering on his feet - suddenly he looked as tired as Silver felt.

"That's right, lad." Silver nodded, looking him unblinking in the eye. "Can't tell ye how close I came ta blastin' him and his slimy pal to Kingdom Come, and he'd deserve nothin' less. Wouldn't cross the street ta piss down his throat if he were on fire. Now, I know I ain't been a model citizen all my life, but I at least know how a man should act, what gives him the right ta breathe the same air as someone like you, Jim. And he gave up his right fer any respect the moment he walked out on ye and yer mam, and prob'ly long before that."

Jim was quiet for a long time. Then he leaned back against the exterior wall, and slid down, curling his knees to his chest.

"I wish he'd never come back," he murmured, chin resting on his knees. "I - when I was a kid, all I thought about was why he left us. What I did wrong, or didn't do, why I wasn't good enough, why... why he didn't want me." He curled a little tighter into himself, hands balled into fists so tight the skin around his knuckles started to turn white. "Now -  _I don't care! I_  just want him gone. I'm doing just fine without him-"

Now he looked up at the bigger face - he might be looking up at Silver, but he was never looked down on.

"We're doing just fine now."

"Aye, that ye are, lad." Silver spoke low with a slow smile. "And sometimes a man don't need a reason fer actin' like a daft fool, and throwin' away the best thing in his sorry life. But he does need one ta come back, even if that's just ta beg fer what he gave up a long time ago. But I don't get that feelin'," he frowned. "Nah, there's somethin' else at work here."

Jim shook his head. "How do you figure that? He's just coming back here to get his hands on some money, or - or screw up all our lives again-"

"Take it from an old pirate..." Silver's eyes narrowed, and he stared into space like he was scrutinizing something far in the distance. "I know a rotten apple when I whiff one. And I don't trust this one, not as far as I can throw 'im. Still, ya should know just the way the wind's blowin'."

"I don't  _care_ ," Jim said a little more forcefully. "What he does, or says, or thinks about anything. I just want him gone again. He can just pack up and go back to whatever the hell he's doing, and we can go back to our lives, and none of this ever happened."

"Ya don't do well with loose threads, Jimbo. Nobody does, know I don't." Silver frowned, mechanical fingers working with a soft whirr, like they ran an invisible coin over their articulated-metal knuckles.

"It's like the big treasure," he continued at last. "When it was out there, somewhere, I could hear it callin' to me every night. Flint's lost trove would sing to these old bones - it wouldn't leave me alone, let me breathe or live without thinkin' and wonderin' and drivin' myself daffy about it. Now it's gone, I saw it blow with my own eyes and what was left turned inta' this place right here." He slapped the inn's sturdy windowsill. "And that's all right. Like I said, a lifetime obsession, but ya get over it. I couldn't live with that gold hangin' over my head n'more... made me ugly. Someone I didn't know, or wanna be. But once it's gone-"

He took a deep breath and spread his arms, taking in the open night sky beyond the Benbow.

_"I can breathe!_ My life's mine again, and I can move on to bigger and better things. That's the funny thing about this old world," Silver grinned, golden eye winking and glittering. "There's always another treasure. Trick is just learnin' how ta let go, so yer hands are free and yer eyes are open..." the rakish smile melted into an expression his rugged face rarely saw - something soft and open and entirely real. "And ye never miss that next treasure."

One huge hand came down to gently rest on top of Jim's head, then curled around his shoulders. Jim leaned in, and both of them pretended not to notice as Jim blinked hard, and swiped his sleeve across his eyes. There was a long moment of quiet as the daylight faded and pinprick stars grew brighter, air still except for faint murmured voices from inside, and far-off thrums of ship traffic overhead.

"So," Jim said at last - a little thickly; he sniffed to clear his nose and tried again. "You think I should give him a chance."

_"Not even!"_  Silver growled, turning the hug into a firm man-pat on the back. "You don't owe him a spit in the eye. But he owes  _YOU_  to tell ya what damn fool thing he thought was more important than you or yer mam. And ye owe it ta yerself to find out, and put this business behind ya forever." Silver smiled, somewhere between comfort and evil plots. "And if he's just as daft as I think he is... we can come back up here, and I'll help ya throw more than rocks at that ship."

Jim let out a kind of surprised bark that might have been a laugh. "It's a deal!"

Another long, comfortable silence.

"Ya know - I gotta hand it to yer pap on one front, there."

"Hmm?"

"Shovin' off and leavin you's the best thing he ever did for me. Gotta tip me hat to the blighter, otherwise it might be his fool arse here instead o'mine."

Jim was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke again, it was in a dry whisper, hard to hear, and hard to get out. "Silver..."

"Hmm?"

"Promise me you'll never call me James. I mean, Mom only does when she's going  _James Pleiades Hawkins,_  and that's fine, but... when he says it, it's just ' _James_ ,' and it's different. Just... don't call me that. Not you."

"It's a promise, Jimbo."

 


	4. A Real Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know you're a ridiculous nerd when Preed starts singing. And it's a tribute to a certain Scientist Salarian. Also, warnings for non-explicit sexual content... involving Preed and Korso. Nightmare-inducing, perhaps, but I ship it unabashedly.

Korso took in the place, eyes wandering over the familiar shapes and angles and the new unfamiliar details. "Place looks good, Sarah," he nodded, hands on his hips and leaning back on his heels. "Better than I left it, in fact."

"Thank you." Sarah clasped her hands and tried to smile. " We had some pretty major renovations done. Courtesy of Mister Silver."

"Right..." Korso frowned, folding his arms across his chest. "And just... who is he? Besides  _'the man with the aarrrrm.'_ " He rolled his eyes, mocking the bearlike cyborg's gruff, salty speech.

"He's a friend of Jim's." Sarah shrugged. "He's gotten to be a friend of mine too, he's done so much for us."

Korso paused, and tried again. "Just a friend?"

Sarah blinked, realizing. "Oh - what? No, no, we're not - _ew!_ " she laughed, high and nervous, then calmed herself with a deep breath and shake of her head. "No, Joseph. Jim just met him on the Legacy... Silver saved his life out there, and I'll always be grateful to him for that. Tell you the truth, I think they saved each other."

"Uh-huh. And is there a reason he's hanging around here pointing guns at me? Just a social call, or is he your new live-in bodyguard or something?"

Sarah hesitated. When she spoke again, her tone was guarded, measuring every word. "Just visiting. And we'd both - all of us - would really appreciate it if you wouldn't mention seeing him here to anyone."

Korso let out an unpleasant laugh even he didn't like the sound of. " _Hah!_  Humans harboring an alien. Seems kind of  _backwards_ , doesn't it?"

"Please, Joseph. It'd be a good way to win some points with Jim. Picking a fight with Silver is the very worst thing you could do right now... in a lot of ways."

"Fine, fine. Your secret's safe with me."

The silence stretched a little too long, a little too awkwardly. When they spoke again, naturally, their words fell all over each other at once, like they had forgotten how to have a conversation.

"Sar-"

"Jos - sorry, you go ahead."

"No, you first. I'm the one barging in here, you get to grill me first."

"Okay." She took a deep breath. "You never wrote once. Or called, after..."

"No. And I'm sorry about that," he growled. "I'm sorry about a lot of shit I put you through. But I... I thought it would be better if you didn't know. Safer."

"That's bull and you know it." she shook her head vehemently. "You could always tell me anything, always-"

"I got a lead on the _Titan."_  He almost spoke it in a whisper, like the name of a saint or sacred relic in a cathedral. "And I had to leave, right then. If anyone else got wind of it - if anyone knew my name, knew where I came from, and who was waiting for me here..." He looked at her, and his face was more open than he could remember, eyes brightening. "The  _Titan_ , Sarah. Hope for the entire human race."

"That's what I thought," she said quietly. "Nothing else mattered to you. All these years, it was always about that ship."

"That's not true," Korso shook his head. "Other things mattered. You and James mattered. But some things - sometimes you have to give up a good life, to do the right thing."

"Mmmm." Sarah folded her arms. "So it was all about some wild, great hope for the universe. And had  _nothing_  to do with the fact that you were bored with the slow life, did it?"

"What? No-"

"Stop hiding, Joseph, we were married! I know you. I know you could never be happy being an innkeeper, being a nobody, when you had a world to save. I know the look in your eye you'd get, when I was talking, or Jim wanted to show you something, and you'd be staring out the window up at the stars. You were thinking about what was out there, and what you could do to avenge a dead planet. You can take the man out of the army, but-"

"I was happy here!"

 _"Then why did you leave?"_  Sarah almost cried, the question ripping out of her after being forced into silence for so many years. Like picking out glass with tweezers, it hurt, but nothing else would let it heal. "Why did you wake up early that morning and slip away, when you thought I was sleeping-"

"I told you I didn't want to, I had to-"

"You wanted to run off and be a crusader again - a pirate, a soldier, a hero, anything but a father and a husband on this lonely piece of rock. You couldn't let go of the quest, and realize that it was enough to make a good life for yourself here-"

"Sounds like you've got me all figured out!" Korso snorted, started to pace around the room, arms flying in punctuating, snapping gestures, heavy boots loud on the hardwood floor. "Thank you so much for sharing all this with me!"

"I've had a lot of time to think about it." Sarah hugged her elbows close to herself, and stared at the floor. "You were always chasing after Sam..."

Korso stopped dead, eyes going wide. He slowly turned, and when he spoke again it was in that same reverant whisper he'd used to mention the Titan - but with an edge of something else. Maybe fear. _"What?"_

"Even after he went where you couldn't follow. Why else did you marry his widow?"

"You stop right there, I-"

"And why else did I marry his best friend? We were both trying to get him back."

Korso stomped closer, arms out, as if he wanted to grab her in a bear hug, shake her, hold her close, something - but just didn't know how to touch her anymore. "Dammit, Sarah, I loved you! I-"

"And I loved you. Or at least we thought we did." Sarah didn't move a muscle, even as their faces almost touched, and his arms tried to encircle her - and failed, flopping back to his sides. "But it was always Sam. I think - we thought, if we could just hold onto one another, we could hold onto him too."

Korso shut his eyes and turned away, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Sarah... what in the  _hell_  does Sam have to do with any of this? He's gone. Just - both of us, we need to leave him in his grave or whatever God-forsaken place he ended up out there in space, and move the hell on."

Sarah held her upper body tight, and shook. She took a deep breath through clenched teeth, willing herself to speak the two small, difficult, momentous words.

_"Cale's alive."_

Korso's face went slack, all the color draining from under the stubble. His mouth hung open, eyes wide, and for a moment he just breathed.

"How?"

"I don't know where he is," Sarah said quickly, and now the words were spilling out of her, she couldn't have stopped if she tried. "If I did, I'd have gone to get him in a heartbeat. But Silver - he hears things, he knows all sorts of people and finds out all kinds of things he's not supposed to know. And somewhere, out there, outside the Etherium... he caught wind of a blonde-haired human, around 19 years old... named Cale Tucker."

 _"Christ..."_ Korso breathed.

"I know, Joseph!" Sarah smiled - almost giggled. And for a moment there, she was the sweet young girl he'd known on Earth, married to Sam, happiest she'd ever been. Happier than when she'd been married to him, he knew that. The years melted away, and her eyes shone with hope.

"My son - he's alive. Cale's alive! He didn't get lost in the Drej attack. Somewhere..." she shook her head in wonder, unable to believe this miracle. "It drives me  _crazy_ , you know," she said, sniffing hard. "Knowing he's alive, but not where. Or being able to get a message to him... Silver's going to put the word out, try to find him, let him know he's - he's got people, here on Montressor, a place to come home to..."

Korso wasn't listening.

_Somewhere there was a boy with Sam Tucker's eyes._

"Does James know?"

"No. I haven't... he knows about Sam and Cale of course, he's seen old photos, and pictures of Earth, but. I was always waiting for him to get old enough to ask more questions, and." She shrugged. "He always had so much else on his mind. I guess now is as good a time as any."

"He has the map." Korso whispered.

"What?"

 _"He has the map!_  Sam told me no matter what happened, he said to take care of his kid - your kid - because he'd have the answer." Korso stared at her, going from disbelief to the widest smile he could remember having, stretched so wide it hurt his unaccustomed face muscles. "Do you know what this means?"

His energy flooded back like an electric shock, he felt like spinning Sarah around, dancing with her in the Benbow's common room, just like they'd-

"It's the  _Titan_  again." she said flatly, smile fading. The years came back in a rush, and she suddenly looked so tired. "That's what matters to you, isn't it, Joseph? Not Cale. Now you can get back to your quest. You can keep trying to find the Titan, keep up your - your mission, in life. Keep looking for Sam. You can have a purpose again."

Korso was quiet for a long moment. "Don't you ever think about it?" he asked, voice rough, words hard to get out. "Having another shot - another Earth. Proving the bastards who tried to destroy us wrong, _sorry boys, but humanity isn't over with yet!_  Having a real home, a real life."

A sad smile. "I  _have_  a home, Joseph. It's here, on Montressor, with Jim. We have a real life, and it's full of people who love us, new friends and old - Silver, and Dr. Doppler and Captain Amelia and their children, and maybe Cale will be part of it again someday... We have a real life - and you did too. You were part of that once, but..."

"Sarah-"

"The worst part is -!" Sarah's voice broke - she took a deep breath, and made herself continue. "If you had just  _talked_  to us... if you'd just told us what you needed," She looked up, eyes wide and stinging with tears. "We would have understood! I would have - I know how important it was to you. All we wanted to know was that we were, too. You always wanted to be a hero, Joseph, and..."

She bit her lip, hot tears finally falling.

 _"You already were!_ All you had to do was look in your little boy's eyes to see it."

"Sarah... God, I... I'm so-"

"Don't say it! Don't say you're sorry." Sarah shook her head, not looking up at him. "If you had to do it over again - you would. Maybe you'd just do it a little differently."

She cleared her throat, turned and stiffly walked across the room, hand on the stair railing. "I'll talk to Jim," she said at last, voice raw. "Tell him how important the  _Titan_  is. But he knows already - he's a smart kid, Joseph, and he sees more than you think. And I will  _not_  force him, or even tell him I think he should help you. It's up to him. And you've got to accept whatever he decides."

"Thanks." Korso croaked, clearing his throat. "Appreciate it." He opened his mouth, but no sound would come out until he painfully forced it. "Sarah, I -  _you mattered. Y_ ou and James both. You always did."

She didn't turn around, shoulders slowly rising and falling with a deep breath. "If you see him out there - if you really do find Cale, tell him..." she trailed off, fell silent for a few long seconds.

"What?" He asked, not unkindly. Or at least as kindly as he knew how.

"Tell him he has a family."

"I will. I promise."

Sarah nodded. "Good night, Joseph," she whispered - and started up the stairs. Her footsteps creaked above his head, and faded.

After a long, long few minutes of breathing and shaking and quiet curse words, Korso followed. He paused at the first landing, looking up the dark stairwell where she'd disappeared... then turned off onto the second floor, moving quietly through the dark house.

# # #

Korso hunched his way down the hall, hands jammed into his pockets, chin tucked down against his chest. He didn't need to look up to see where he was going; he still knew the floor plan by heart. The Benbow was new, improved, rebuilt, but the renovators must have used some of the original blueprints, because it was still fourteen steps up to the second floor. That was the strangest thing about being back here, how much it had changed - and hadn't. Every turn, every corner and angle was the same, but nothing inside of it was. Nobody who lived here was the same person anymore. It didn't even smell the same or have any of the same feel; it didn't resonate on the same frequency, he couldn't subconsciously pick up any lingering energy of his, any small imprint of himself left behind that meant he belonged here, that he was home -

"Well,  _that_ was educational."

Korso didn't look up to see his first mate sloping along beside him; he was too exhausted to even be surprised at how even here he appeared out of nowhere. "You were listening."

"Of course," Preed said smoothly. "She still has my gun - she might have pulled it on you and put several holes in your anatomy. Hell's fury and a woman scorned, and all that."

"No..." Korso shook his head, still not looking up. "Sarah's never been the ball-blasting type. Not unless I made a far bigger ass of myself than I - hey!" he stopped dead, and Preed ran into his back - though he'd been sure the Akrennian was next to him, not behind. "When did you start using human sayings?" He stared at Preed almost accusingly; this shouldn't be important but he just didn't want any more surprises, and didn't feel like dealing with whatever this meant -

" _Wha-at?_ I make it my business to be familiar with my companions' cultures and idioms... extinct though they may be. and you humans  _do_ have unique ways of putting things, I must say. Odd little proverbs, even songs-"

"Oh, God, don't tell me you've been studying Earth show tunes."

Preed cleared his throat - and began to sing, a strange, staccato, singsong melody.

" _I am the very measure of an excellent Akrennian,_

_With elegance and charm from here to Jupiter and back again!_

_A dashing individual, a fine upstanding specimen,_

_I am the very measure of an excellent Ak-krrrrenn-i-aaan!"_

He rolled the last extended ' _rrrrr_ ,' and finished with a flourish of spindly arms, long fingers splaying in flying jazz-hands.

And by now, Korso couldn't breathe. His eyes squeezed shut and his shoulders bounced with stifled laughter, as he resisted the guffaw that threatened to burst out of him and disturb the entire inn. "Fuck me," he managed to get out. "You  _have,_ you crazy bastard - I don't believe it, that bump on the head really must have rattled some screws loose-"

"Well, it's such a  _catchy_ little tune!" Preed grinned in a way Akrennians probably thought was cheerful, but any human besides Korso would find horrifying. Somehow that demented, toothy, inhuman smile just didn't fit bastardized Gilbert and Sullivan. "And I can certainly go on, I've got several more verses worked out-"

 _"No!"_ Korso almost shouted, finally letting out the laugh - but it came out in more of a harsh bark than anything, and it hurt his throat. The sudden pain brought him back to reality, and the sinking feeling returned. "No. This is not the time, or the place, I just... I need to think about everything." He started walking again - and after a moment, Preed followed.

"You don't think the boy's going to help us," Preed said flatly, as Korso strode up to a door like all the others in the hallway, digging for the room key Sarah had given to him.

"James? Why would he?" Korso mumbled, jamming the key into the lock with more force than was probably necessary. "Talking with her... almost getting my nose broken - starting to think it was a fuckin' stupid idea coming back here. Oh, she'll talk to him, or at least that's what she said," he shoved the door open and stepped inside. "But I'm pretty damn sure that it'll just be you and me shoving off this rock tomorrow."

"Yes, and we can't have  _that_." Preed's dark sarcasm had no humor about it at all - and it was completely lost on Korso, who didn't so much as grunt in reply. Preed slipped through the doorway before it shut behind Korso, though the human didn't seem to notice.

And he wasn't listening. "Cale's alive. Fine. Still back to square fuckin' one.  _Less_  than one!" He growled, pacing around the small, cozy room like a prison cell, not seeming to notice Preed was there at all. "Where do I even start looking for the kid –  _one kid,_  in the whole galaxy? And what if this Silver jagoff gets to Cale first, tells him  _he has a family_ , and he decides he'd rather come back here to this goddamn rock, and live with his  _mommy?_ "

Preed leaned back against one wall and folded his long arms, hooded eyes following Korso's stomping paces across the room and back. He didn't say a word, just let his captain rant, and took it all in like a sponge.

" _Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker,_  He's floating somewhere across the universe, God knows where - and can't find the Titan without him! Needle in a haystack,  _inside another goddamn haystack_!" He aimed a kick at the wall – but stopped when he saw the floral wallpaper lovingly spread on it.

"It's over." He let out a long sigh instead, sank down to sit on the bed as all the fight drained out of him. "I keep thinking  _it can't get worse_ , and then guess what the fuck happens? And  _now what?"_ he rested his elbows on his knees, and forehead on clenched fists.

"Back to a floating prison called a station, rotting in a human ghetto, behind a chain link fence? Or maybe we'll go back to drug running, smuggling and hiding under the bed and holding my breath whenever there's a raid! Deciding whether we wanna eat or breathe that day. Well, fuck that. It's just another kind of cage."

Korso opened his eyes, shivering at the long fingers on the back of his neck, and the tingling hairs that stood on end. He looked up with some annoyance, too tired for any real edge. "Not in the mood, Preed." He grunted. "Not in my ex-wife's house, with my son in..." he stopped, irritation fading with a resigned sigh. "Quit messing with it."

He reached up and slapped Preed's hand away from where it picked and worried at the edge of the new cranial metal plate.

"It hurts like the devil." Preed growled, sharp teeth flashing. "Doesn't – feel right, it's too tight or-"

"Course it hurts, how the fuck you think a metal plate in your head's supposed to feel?"

"I don't know, but I can't  _think_ with it like this, it's – it's  _agony_ -"

"Fine. Fine, we'll get it looked at or something. Just quit fucking with it until then, I don't need any more problems right-"

"And why should I?" Preed stared at him, beady eyes unblinking. "If you're going to be this  _fatalistic,_  what's the point of anything, really? I never would have thought you the sort to give in to such dramatics, you've always left that to me-"

"Shut up, Pr-"

"Oh, come now, stop moping. What makes you think your little game is over - a ship, a human, what's the difference?"

"Difference is, nobody keeps track of individual humans by name, unless they're personal property. Free humans are ghosts in the system, we come and go and nobody knows our names. Real nice if you want to stay under the radar – and if this kid has stayed off of  _my_  radar for so long, he doesn't want to be found."

He shook his head, breaking eye contact. "But still. God. After all these years, the kid's alive...  _Sam's boy_..." A smile suddenly broke across his face, surprising both of them, most of all Korso himself – it was still strange to feel those muscles engaging, he didn't know he remembered how to smile like that.

"Can you believe it? Fuck  _me_ , Sam Tucker's kid. Wonder what he's like...?"

Preed didn't answer. And if Korso noticed his dangerously darkening glower, he didn't react; his eyes were brighter than they'd been in years, and a decade seemed to fade away from his face along with the tension lines.

But then he crashed again, smile becoming a pained grimace.

"Shit.  _Shit!_  Got a better chance of finding a ready-made brand new Earth than finding him, let alone the  _Titan_ _!_   _God!_  I almost wish I didn't know the kid was alive!" It all hit at once – the enormity of the galaxy, and the smallness of the human race. Of one person, of one tired, hurting old bastard in a floral-walled inn, wishing he was anywhere else.

"I can't find him alone – and James isn't about to give me the time of day, I'd bet on that. No matter what I do..." He frowned, staring at the ground, teeth and jaw working silently. "Can't keep doing what I've been doing. Don't know where I'm going from here, but. It's not gonna just be you and me running after this. End of an era, I can tell you that for sure..." And he went silent again, poring over thoughts kept tight behind his clenched teeth.

But behind the frustration, something else was still there; that tiny spot of salvation, the last lifeline tossed to him by a man dead for fifteen years. _Sam was still doing it,_ still pointing him in the right direction, giving his sorry ass one last reason to hope.

Preed caught the wistful, faraway look in Korso's eyes, and stewed. The human was withdrawing into himself into a place fully his own, into memories and thoughts only he knew, something Preed could never imagine or touch.

"Has running with me  _really_  been so terrible?" His tone was light and flippant as ever, but narrow, shrewd eyes never once stopped studying Korso's face, scrutinizing microexpressions like a vital sample under a microscope.

Korso smirked. "No. It's been a hell of a ride... stop, or that thing'll never heal." Korso sighed, and reached up to pick Preed's hand off his head again.

"Then why... would this ' _era_ ,' as you call it, need to come to an end? Why change a perfectly good routine,  _hmm?"_

Korso didn't answer at once – and he didn't move his hand either, just let it rest on the undamaged half of Preed's head. "Because some things are more important. Because once this is over, maybe humanity'll have a fighting chance again. And I can have a real life."

A few long breaths of stillness. An oddly gentle moment for the two of them, Korso's hand on Preed's healing skull and half-destroyed ear. But as always, the silence was charged with that edge of danger below the surface, of knowing that everything could change in a heartbeat, and neither ever quite knowing how it all would end.

A real life, he'd said. A  _real_  life.

Preed could have done any number of sudden, lethal things and felt entirely justified. And for a long moment, he considered them – until he thought of something much, much better.

He reached out with sibilant hands, turned Korso's stubbled face back to look at him. Long, possessive fingers encircled the human's neck, and ever so slightly began to squeeze, and pull him closer.

"Don't want to hurt you," Korso murmured, voice raw and gravely; he gave the metal plate a light tap with a fingernail.

"But my dear, tortured Captain," Preed curled around him like a serpent's coils, teeth and nasal horn scraping across the back of his neck and under his jaw, long hands spreading across his chest and digging in sharp. "I believe  _you_  could do with a different sort of pain."

Korso clenched his teeth, resisting for just a few more breaths, while wiry-strong arms pinned his own down. "No matter what happens – I'm never going back in that damn cage."

Preed curled around him tighter, arms and legs locking around in desperate possession...

...And came to a decision.

" _No,"_ he whispered, turning the sharp-toothed bite on Korso's collarbone into words.  _"You're not."_

Korso's eyes rolled back in his head and he took in a deep, shuddering breath – and let himself be pulled under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this was the hardest chapter I've had to write so far, with all the dynamics - I want everyone involved here to have clear motivations and wants and needs, and come across at least as a little sympathetic. Yeah, Korso's a dick who abandoned his wife and kid and fooled himself into thinking he was doing something noble, but I don't want him to come off as a complete douchewad, otherwise why would we want to read about him? Same with Preed - icky, slimy bastard, but with some relatable fear of losing the only person who really gives a crap about him. Sarah is just totally awesome and sympathetic anyway, but I still tried to get a balance of her giving Korso the wakeup call he needed without coming across as a bitch. And the connection to Sam... needed to be tangible, and painful and sweet all at once.


	5. Seeing Things

Korso munched-slurped on the juicy, purple fruit and elbowed his way through the swinging saloon-style kitchen doors. He wouldn't be going back in there any time soon - the Benbow's kitchen was the least changed for all the renovations, and too full of memories. Chasing Sarah around the oven island, distracting her with kisses, trying and failing to learn the simplest of her recipes and making spectacular messes. The time he'd nearly set the place on fire the one time he'd attempted a birthday dinner surprise. Well, she had been surprised when the fire department arrived.

But it wasn't just the memories keeping him away. The kitchen was inhabited. Soon as he'd slipped inside, a whirring, buzzing rattle-trap with glowing LED eyes clanked out from the pantry and asked if he wanted pancakes. It said its name was B.E.N., and proceeded to talk his ear off. It didn't care what his answer was, either, pancakes were imminent. Then, while he was still speechless (not so much from shock, but being unable to get a single word in over B.E.N.'s chatter), a floating little blob of squishy pink... something, scoot-floated up to him, warbling happily.

"The fuck're you supposed to be?" he muttered and glared with his arms crossed, not sure he trusted the ridiculously cute little blob looking at him with its huge, innocent googly eyes.

"That's Morph!" the robot cackled, mechanical arms grabbing cooking implements and starting to slap together something that might have resembled pancakes to a disturbed child with no concept of Earth food. "I'm B.E.N.! Did I tell you that already? I think I did. Unless I didn't?"

"I think you told me everything already..." Korso growled. But these two were the only people (if one used a very loose definition of 'people') he'd seen all day, and he needed information. "Either of you seen anyone else this morning? Place is a ghost town."

B.E.N. didn't seem to hear, and kept rattling the pots and pans. But the smiling pink goo was attentive, orbiting Korso's head - and changing. Suddenly it was a tiny Sarah, hanging a sign that read " _CLOSED_ " in midair, and walking away. Korso frowned - who had she gone to see? But before he could dwell on that, the thing was changing again. A small Jim trudged up an invisible flight of stairs and became a miniature Silver, adjusting his cyber-biotic leg with a wrench extension of his arm.

"Heh!" Korso nodded, with a reluctant little scoffing laugh. The thing that couldn't talk was being infinitely more helpful than the thing that could. He liked things that gave him help without a bunch of lip to go along with it. "That's quite the trick you got - hey..."

Speaking of things that gave him lip, a tiny Preed now slunk before his eyes. Korso had to smile - the little morphing gel had gotten his first mate's long-limbed looseness spot-on in perfect miniature, spindly arms flowing in perfect, languid Preedness. He stopped himself from poking the tiny replica, and instead held out one finger like a canary's perch. The grumpy little figure stalked onto it - But the small reproduction hunched, seemed to move with difficulty. Then one long hand went to its metal-plated head, tiny face twisting in pain.

"Damn." Korso grunted, shaking his own head. "Where'd he go?"

The tiny Preed hesitated - then glared furiously up at Korso, chattering an unintelligible tirade of squeaks and angry blips, and blew an enormous raspberry. Then it huffed off through a tiny disembodied set of kitchen doors, stomping off Korso's finger and melting back into the floating goo. Morph trilled unhappily, looking deflated and sad and somehow more runny than before.

"Yep. Sounds like Preed."

Morph chittered and gurgled, cheering up instantly, and Korso became dimly aware that B.E.N. was still talking - and, apparently, making him pancakes. He wasn't generally one to pass up free food, but a dull ache in his temple told him he'd better get out of this kitchen if he knew what was good for him, and these two critters. It was all a little surreal and altogether too happy for Korso, so he skedaddled as fast as he could get away - but not before grabbing a succulent purp from a full barrel.

Now he left the closed-in kitchen, noise and irritating perkiness behind him, heading into the sunny, open front common room. As he entered, someone across the room turned; Jim's face set back into its hard, determined mask as he crossed his arms.

Korso wiped the purple juice from his chin on his rough sleeve and cleared his throat. "James!" he said around the last bits of purp - then swallowed. As soon as his mouth was free, he couldn't think of a thing to say. "Good, uh... good morning." He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder back toward the kitchen. "You know you got a pink - thing, in there, right?"

Jim nodded, rocking back on his heels. He still watched Korso like a hawk, stuck in that self-preserving mode of scrutinization, searching for any hint of betrayal. "Guess you met Morph and B.E.N."

"The robot that wouldn't shut up."

"Yeah... they're good friends."

Korso hesitated for an awkward moment, rubbing his stubbled chin. "You get a chance to talk to your mom?"

"Yeah. Yeah, she told me." Jim was quiet and thoughtful, fiddling with his earring. There were a few seconds of silence, and the kid didn't seem inclined to continue. After a while, Korso couldn't stand it anymore.

"... _And?_ "

"You seem pretty sure I can help you."

"If anyone can, you can." Korso said levelly, matching him stare for stare. "You found something that wasn't even supposed to exist. Took a bedtime story, and made it real. Now, I know that the Titan is real, and out there - I worked with Sam Tucker on it for years, saw it with my own eyes and touched it and smelled it. And now, together, you and I can find it." He spread his hands, gave an appealing smile. "So... will you do it? Come with me, and make another bedtime story come true?"

Jim stared at him for a moment - then let his head flop forward, smiling at the floor. Slowly, his head started to shake from side to side, and Korso's smile froze. "You are a real piece of work," Jim said at last. "You still think you can come in here and spin this like it's a big father-son reunion thing, and I'll go along with it for old time's sake. You got some balls, talking about a bedtime story you never told me. That was Mom, every night. Even then, you never gave a damn."

"James, that's not -"

"Shut up." Jim's voice was flat, not at all raised, with no anger behind it - but it made Korso stop anyway. "Believe it or not, I do have people who give a damn about me.  _I know, right!_ Big surprise. Sure was to me. Mom..." His voice softened, and so did the angles of his face. Everything about him became softer, somehow brighter.

"Mom taught me to always at least TRY to do the right thing. I wasn't always great at that, and I'm still not perfect... but then I met this old cyborg. He taught me I was worth more than anybody thought - more than I did, that's for sure. And that I could do things I never thought I could. And Captain Amelia-"

He broke off, a grin suddenly spreading across his face, crooked and bright and excited. The sullen teenager was gone, and he somehow looked older and young at the same time - grown up, with a boyish enthusiasm that had never really had a chance to grow before. "Bet you didn't know I'm in the Royal Spacers Academy now, did you? Someday I'll be a real pilot. And go real places, do real things. Important things."

He smiled, at something or someone only he could see. _"I'm gonna rattle the stars."_

After a moment, Jim looked back at Korso, and the seriousness was back. Whatever had made him smile was a private treasure, something Korso couldn't get a bead on, and would probably never reach. "Anyway. I'll have to ask for some time off, but... I'm pretty sure they'll let it fly, if Captain Amelia puts in another good word. That's 'cause she taught me never to give up on something I put my mind to - and how important it can be, to be part of something bigger than myself. Figure the entire human race counts."

"Then you'll do it?" Korso grated, barely able to contain his combined hope and frustration.

Jim just looked at him for a long time - then nodded. "Yeah."

"Jeezus H. Fuck, kid, you made the right call!" Korso clapped his hands and let out a laugh louder than he intended, striding across the room and throwing an arm around Jim's shoulders. "This is gonna be great - another adventure for you! Shit, I knew you were still my boy-"

Jim shrugged his arm off and stepped away. "Not saying that yet. And you can just stop with the pep talk. I'm not doing this for you."

"Kid, I don't give a single fuck why you do it, just so long as you do."

"Well. It's still not for you. It's for them."

"And for yourself." Korso's smile faded, replaced by his default glower. "Long as we're being brutally honest here, you might as well admit that. The other half of adventure is the glory - so don't pretend you're doing the entire human species a favor out of the goodness of your heart. Everybody's in this for themselves, and don't you forget it. Or pretend it's not true."

"Even you."

"Hey. At least I'm honest about it. That's better'n you'll get from most sorry shits in the 'verse."

Jim watched him for a long time, face a studied blank. The first, most difficult lesson the Academy had taught him was self-control. He was still learning. The dent in the Valkyrie from the rocks said that for sure.

But this time, he just took a deep breath - and strode past his father to the bottom of the stairs.

"I got a lot of stuff to get together," he said, hand on the railing. "Figure out when you wanna leave. I'll be ready."

"You're not gonna regret this, James."

Jim stopped halfway, and hesitated for a second.

"Don't call me that. It's Jim."

"Fine. Jim."

The young man didn't turn around. Without another word or a look back, he headed up the stairs.

# # #

Korso wasn't much of a skipping guy, but now might be the time to start. He didn't really even think he knew how and wouldn't be caught dead trying, but at least his footsteps were a little lighter, and he didn't stomp down the hall as if he were trying to punch through the floorboards. Happy adrenaline pumped through his veins; for the first time in he didn't know how long there was a light at the end of the tunnel, he could see from point A to point B, he had a game plan and a purpose, he was driven and alive. He didn't remember the last time he'd felt like this, and he'd ride this precious, joyful high as far as it would take him.

They'd fire out of here, find the Titan, and everything would be fine. Better than fine! But first he just needed to get out of this goddamn house and all its suffocating memories, blast off this dry rock. And to do that, he needed to find-

"Preed!" Korso rounded a corner - and stopped dead, starting at the crumpled form on the floor. He ran the next few steps, crouched down and pulled Preed into a half-sitting position, supporting his head, heavy with the metal plate, with one hand. "God - shit, what's going on with you?"

Preed's eyes were squeezed shut in agony but he squirmed, tense in Korso's arms, and his long fingers curled into hooks that clutched at Korso's worn leather overcoat. "It's splitting apart-" he gasped, forcing the words out between clenched sharp teeth.

"What? What's splitting - is it your head?"

" _YES,_ what in blazes else would it be? It's - pain, so much, un - un - endure-"

"Okay, let's get you up, back to the room, you can lay down and -  _fuck_ , we don't need this right now!"

"Well, I'm  _dreadfully_ sorry for the inconvenience!" Preed hissed, forehead pressed against Korso's chest as if that would keep his head from falling into a hundred pieces.

"Come on - up." Korso hooked his elbows under Preed's armpits and stood up, supporting all of the Akrennian's stringy weight. They stood there for a few seconds in an off-balance kind of extended hug while Preed panted from effort and pain, and Korso shot nervous glances up and down the hallway. He couldn't decide if he wanted someone to come along and help them, or if this was something to keep entirely to themselves. "Okay - you good to walk?"

Preed's feet wavered, his knobbly knees knocked together and wouldn't support him, but he wouldn't stop trying either. "There's no need to carry me," he said with difficulty, but still clung to Korso's chest. "Sorry to... disappoint, Captain. But don't - let go of me, either."

"Fine. Let's go." Korso half-dragged, half-carried his first mate down the hall, holding him together - but pretending the Akrennian's weak steps were effective, and Preed wouldn't have found himself sprawled on the floor again without him. He needed at least the illusion of not being entirely helpless. So together they limped down the corridor, and Korso tried to hang on to whatever remnant of his good mood remained, even as alarm bells went off in his head, and something cold clenched in the pit of his stomach.

"Got some good news at least," A grin found its way back across Korso's rugged face. "Kid's gonna help us. Looks like coming here wasn't a complete waste after all."

"How wonderful for you." Preed muttered, head hanging low, eyes shut. He wasn't even trying to support himself anymore, and let himself be dragged.

Korso gritted his teeth and rolled his eyes at the guilt that systematically broke down every bit of his good mood. No, feeling happy and renewed was going to have to wait. "So what happened up here?" He asked at last, looking back over his shoulder at where he'd found Preed on the floor. "You just keel over, or what?"

"It's been getting worse," the Akrennian groaned. "It's nearly happened several times, but I was always able to at least stay upright. But yes, I suppose I did - today's been the most intense. I was coming back up here to have a lie down when... whoops-a-daisy."

Korso frowned - that explained his outburst at Morph and B.E.N. earlier. Besides the obvious, of course. They reached the door to the room, and Korso shifted Preed to one arm, juggling him and the doorknob, shuffling the both of them inside and gratefully shutting the door behind them. He didn't feel like exposing this weakness to anyone who might be watching, after all. And some undefined, territorial aggression boiled, subdued and unconscious, at the thought of anyone else seeing Preed like this.

"Okay, here we..." he half-muttered, easing Preed down onto the bed, just to be saying something.

_"Slowly-"_

"I'm going slowly, shut up and lie down." Gently he lowered the Akrennian's damaged head onto the pillow; Preed lay back with a long hissing sigh. Some of the agonized tension faded from his face, but his eyes stayed closed as Korso jumped up again to make sure the door was locked from the inside. Secure. Good. And no footsteps outside; if they could just get out of here without answering any uncomfortable questions... the sooner they were offworld, the better.

An ominous thought nagged at the back of his mind. That cyborg's golden eye - the way it focused and glinted at him, it almost seemed like it could see right through him. What if it really  _could_ see through things, through walls? What if that hulking goon had been watching them the entire-

"I've been seeing things," Preed's faint voice from behind him made him stop, slowly turn around.

"What kind of things? Like - hallucinations?"

"I don't... know."

Korso slowly stepped back over to the side of the bed, arms crossed, and stared down at the Akrennian on the bed. Preed sprawled like a loose-jointed ragdoll, spread-eagled out like he'd been dropped a hundred feet, like a body that would have a white chalk outline around it, back on Earth. His yellow eyes were open a sliver now, looking up at Korso and fighting to stay focused. Even past the squint and how his face still screwed up from the pain, Korso read the fear loud and clear.

"You see anything right now?" Korso pressed, voice rough and tight, one hand fidgeting at his nose, his stubbled chin. He could never keep his hands away from his face, when that cold little ball formed deep in his gut.

"What? No, no - when I sleep."

"When you... goddamn it, Preed, those are just dreams!" Korso let out a gruff laugh of relief, sinking down to sit on the bed. "Everybody has 'em-"

"Akrennians don't." Preed's flat voice made him stop mid-laugh. " _Dreaming_ , as you call it - our brains don't work that way. We go to sleep, we wake up, and there's nothing in between. It's an old saying, the best night's sleep, you don't even know you've had it. We don't see anything that isn't there."

"But now you are."

"Mmm." One bony-fingered hand went to the metal plate, tapped it with a dull clink. "It's this damned thing, I - it's turning everything  _wrong_. Playing cruel little tricks on me, mucking up my brain. I can't even _think_ \- everything's twisted, the wrong way 'round. And I can't make it stop, I can't stop seeing..."

"Seeing what?" Korso prodded, raw throat giving way to a rare tone. Softer, easier, almost gentle; something that would have surprised even him if he'd stopped to think about it.

Preed's bony chest rose and fell in a long sigh. "Nothing important," he said at last, closing his eyes again and turning his pounding head away from Korso.

"Come on, Preed, you're a better liar than that. Try harder, or give it up."

A faint smile pulled at the corner of Preed's twisting lip. "Don't worry about it, Captain." Another slow, deep breath, and the Akrennian folded his long limbs into a more comfortable, less-grotesque position, something like a loose-curled fetal pose. His hand was up picking at the metal plate again - and Korso automatically reached out to stop him fussing at it.

"As you say," Preed murmured, allowing his hand to be pulled away from the place where everything hurt. "It'll all be fine now. The boy will help us find the Titan... and you'll have your prize."

Korso let out a harsh sigh, like a growl on a rush of breath. Rested his elbows on his knees, one hand clenched in a white-knuckled fist, the other one staying in loose contact with long, bony fingers.

"It's not everything, though. We can stop for a while, get this - your head shit, get this taken care of."

"Now, Captain. I know you're also a better liar than that - of course it's everything. It's always been everything."

"That's not-!" Korso barked - then cut himself off.

Sarah. _"It's always been that ship. It's always been Sam."_

"But... I truly appreciate the gesture." Preed said quietly, when Korso didn't continue. He spoke in a kind of dreamy, faraway half-whisper, almost a singsong lilt. "It'll be fine now. Your boy will help us... and if he doesn't, the Drej will."

Korso froze. Slowly turned to look at the half-conscious Akrennian.

 _"The Drej?"_ He forced the words out in a kind of desperate, lifeless whisper. "What did you say?"

"Oh, yes..." Preed sighed, easy and tranquil and not quite all there. "I called them, this morning. They should be here any minute."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh shit, son.

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously, my headcanon here is that Korso is Jim's absent father... which would make Sarah Cale's absent mother.
> 
> Takes place roughly a week after the events of my Preed-head-plate origin story, "Metalhead," but it is not necessary to have read that to enjoy this. And please, do enjoy.


End file.
